Page 37 of Unravelled
Mira swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure how she was looking at him, only that thread by thread, beneath the weight of his stare, her stength was fading. His fingers traced up her arm, slow, deliberate, until they curled at the side of the neck. She nearly shivered at the tenderness in the gesture.
"I can’t," she whispered, the words fragile, uncertain. Ren let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. She flinched but continued, "I can’t betray Tharion like that." His hand lingered on her throat, his fingers twitched, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold on.
“Mira,” he said, voice low. “He’s not waiting for you.” She stilled. Ren continued gently. “I can see it." Ren's thumb stroked along her jaw. "And I know you’ll tell me it’s not like that, that it’s just the bond or the past or whatever you need to believe. But… he is.” He swallowed.
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
His tone was barely above a whisper.“He’s not yours.” Her breath caught. “But I can be...”The flickering lantern light danced across his face, soft shadows, warm gold. His eyes searched hers, not demanding, but asking.
The wind stirred the trees overhead, rustling through the garden like it, too, was holding its breath, waiting for her reply. Her pulse pounded beneath his fingers, an echo to the weightless feeling creeping over her. There was a familiar sensation of something flickering at the edge of her mind, just out of reach.
She wasn’t sure if she was recalling a memory or something Ren was weaving into her now.
"Why?" she asked quietly. Ren’s fingers slid from her neck to her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
"It's always been you..." Ren murmured, his voice a low, steady vow. Each word was woven with a quiet commitment and a depth of adoration she hadn’t expected. He continued,
“Even when it couldn’t be, it was always you”. His fingers tightened around hers, warm and sure.
Mira longed to hold onto this moment. The quiet urgency in him, echoing the ache she'd carried for so long. The yearning to be wanted, and the depth of her wanting him in return. She swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming. Her world had been uncertain for so long, memories slipping through her fingers like sand. Frustrationburned beneath her skin, curling tight in her chest. She was tired. Exhausted with the effort of chasing memories that dissolved like mist, of reaching for someone who should have felt like home. Whose hands were once meant to reach for her and yet now felt like a stranger.
And worse than the frustration was the loneliness. She needed to be wanted. Deeply, unquestionably, to be seen and adored. Needed someone who looked at her like she was theirs, and who, in the same breath, was hers. Like she mattered. Like neither of them was slipping away.
"I…," she faltered. He was closer now, leaning in. His breath warmed her skin, and his hands, steady, certain, slid to the sides of her neck, one after the other, as if holding something precious in place. His body radiated a heat that called to her, that threatened to pull her under.
"Please," Ren murmured, the tip of his nose brushing against hers like he had in the library. "Mira..." The sound of her name on his lips, raw and unguarded, undid her.
She closed the space between them. His lips met hers slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second of contact. As if he had waited years for this moment. But the moment her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, he snapped.
Ren moved her with sudden, unrelenting urgency. Backing her until her shoulders hit the ivy-covered wall. A soft gasp escaped her against her mouth, and he laughed into the kiss, low and rough, as if the sound pulled something deeper from him. Heat curled low in Mira as his lips parted against hers, his tongue sweeping over her lower lip before coaxing her into a slow, intoxicating rhythm.
Ren didn't hold back. His body pressed into hers, his hands framing her waist, holding her there, anchoring her to him. His fingers curled against her hips, firm, possessive. Grounding himself in this moment. Slowly his hands moved, trailing up her sides, his touch slow, teasing. His fingertips tracing the dip of her spine, up the sides of her ribs and across her shoulders before settling at the base of her neck. His thumb brushed against her jaw, tilting her face and deepening the kiss.Her knees weakened, her breath unsteady. Ren must have felt her because his arm returned to slide around her waist, pulling her flush against him again. The fire between them built, burning away reason, blurring the lines between past and present.
A flicker of a candle against stone walls. Laughter, warm and familiar. Fingers laced together in the dark. Tharion’s hand.
No, Ren’s hand. Her body tensed, the world tilting as memories collided with reality.
Stolen fruit between shared breaths. The whispered name.
Everything overlapped, blurred at the edges. She couldn’t tell what was real, what had belonged to who.
Ren pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, "Mira…"
She tried to breathe, tried to steady herself, but the past wasn’t just creeping in, it was crashing into her, pulling her under.
???
She moved soundlessly, her steps sure, her pulse thrumming with anticipation. The night stretched quiet and heavy around her as she slipped through the side of the palace. Past the towering hedges and marble archways, into the dimly lit garden tucked away from the grand hall. It was secluded. Hidden from prying eyes, perfect.
And there he was, facing the stone wall. His back was to her, one hand braced against the cool stone, shoulders rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. The tension in his frame was unmistakable.
Mira stepped closer, deliberately silent, savoring the quiet thrill of catching him off guard. She was right behind him when she finally let her voice slip into the night, smooth and teasing.
"Running away so soon?" He jolted, twisting around, and for the first time since she’d known him, she saw something rare in his eyes, genuine surprise.
For a flicker of a second, his usual composure faltered. His sharp, green eyes widened, something almost embarrassed flashing behind them. It vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the usual smirk, by the narrowed gaze that always met her with a challenge. She tilted her head, brow furrowing slightly, until her gaze dropped, until she noticed. His hand. Just above his waistband.
Heat flushed through her, realization striking like a spark to dry kindling. She should have looked away, should have let him have the dignity of pretending she hadn’t seen. But she didn’t. Instead, she stepped closer, gaze lifting to him as she reached out, trailing a single finger down the front of his jacket.
